


A Little While

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [41]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7374352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Cam during John's leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG-1, John Sheppard/Cameron Mitchell, when John is on Earth he sleeps on Cam's couch, but he rarely stays there alone."

“Need anything else, Colonel?” the admin minion asked, peering up at John through her lashes. She pushed his wallet across the desk. It was full of everything he needed for a stay on Earth, driver’s license and credit cards all renewed and good to use, new insurance cards tucked in among what cash he carried. “Accommodations while you’re here?”  
  
“He’s crashing on my couch,” Cam said, clapping John on the shoulder. “No offense to the fine hospitality provided on this base, but after three weeks on the Daedalus, a man needs some fresh air and a real sky. And some of Grandma Mitchell’s peach cobbler.”  
  
John’s mouth watered at the thought. “Thanks, Mitchell.” He pocketed his wallet, and he followed Cam to the elevator. They caught up on gossip, the antics of their teammates and coworkers. Cam had recorded and saved the Academy/Citadel football game. He hadn’t watched it, saved it just for John, but of course he knew who’d won, because there was no way he could avoid spoilers for it on base.  
  
John had crashed at Cam’s enough times to be able to settle himself in. He stowed his duffel bag beneath the end table to the right of the couch and proceeded to make up the fold-out bed while Cam was in the kitchen, doing his crazy culinary voodoo. Dinner was beef stroganoff - also Grandma Mitchell’s recipe - and green beans and, as promised, peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream on the side. They ate second helpings of dessert sitting propped up on the couch bed together while the game played.  
  
The routine was familiar, but that didn’t mean John’s pulse didn’t flutter when Cam’s elbow bumped his. It was almost a dance, reaching around each other for the remote or for their bottles of beer, jumping when fingers tangled or they were in each other’s space, hyperaware of each other’s warmth. It was slow and subtle and almost high school, the way they eased closer and closer, so that by halftime they were pressed close, from shoulder to hip to knee, resolutely not looking at each other, focused on the game and making half-hearted comments about the cheerleaders.  
  
Even though this was Cam’s apartment, John had to make the first move every time, because Cam was still too down-home polite for his own good (and John didn’t know how someone who could do the things Cam could do with his mouth and hands could pull off being so ‘aw shucks’ charming, but it was _Cam_ ). So John swiped Cam’s beer, took a long pull, and they tussled over possession of it, swiping at each other good-naturedly, and when Cam had regained possession of his precious bottle, John left one hand resting casually on Cam’s knee.  
  
Cam kept his gaze firmly fixed on the game, didn’t twitch when John slid his hand a little higher.  
  
John eased his hand higher, and Cam took another pull from his beer bottle.  
  
John eased his hand a little higher, and then Cam was on top of him, pushing him down to the bed and ravaging his mouth with a brutal kiss.  
  
When they finally broke for air, John said, “Took you long enough.”  
  
“I was trying to be polite,” Cam mumbled, nipping at his mouth.  
  
“Stop being polite and be a little dirty, please.”  
  
“Since you said please.” And Cam ducked his head down, used his teeth to unbutton John’s shirt, hands working at John’s belt all the while, and then Cam was using his teeth to unbutton and unzip John’s pants, his hands sliding up John’s undershirt, the sensations were so familiar, so good, good enough that John could call Earth home, just for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG-1, Cameron Mitchell/John Sheppard, finally getting leave on Earth."

The best thing about leave on-world was Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell. He just happened to be hanging out with Carter in the gate room when John stepped onto the metal ramp, and when Cam smiled, it was bright and friendly and perfect. Cam also just happened to be done with his duties on base that day, and he had a spare room at his apartment for John to crash in, and did John want to catch a ride with him after his debrief with Landry? The entire exchange was friendly, courteous, and above reproach. No one would suspect a thing, that the commanding officers of the SGC and Atlantis expedition's flagship teams were violating UCMJ regs in a pretty serious way.  
  
John handed his duffel bag off to Cam, and then he fell into step beside Carter as they headed for Landry's office. He offered her greetings from Rodney, which she accepted good-naturedly, because John could do a pretty good impression of Rodney at his most blustery. His debrief with Landry was pretty painless - the second wave of personnel who'd arrived on the Daedalus were settling in well, and Major Lorne was looking to be the best XO a commander could ask for.  
  
Before too long, John was behind the wheel of Cam's Mustang, and they were flying down the mountain's curves at breathtaking speeds, and there were no cops to ruin their fun. Cam even had Johnny Cash in the tape deck, and they sang along to Ring of Fire at the tops of their lungs.  
  
Cam's house smelled like chicken stew because he'd left the slow cooker on all day, and gate travel made a man hungrier than it ought to have, given how fast it was. Cam stashed John's duffel bag in the guest room, because when John wasn't on base he liked to spread his possessions out, and Cam's neatness in his own bedroom wouldn't survive John leaving his things everywhere.  
  
Cam Mitchell was hands down the best part of earthside leave, and his kisses felt like coming home even though these days John thought of Atlantis as home.  
  
The worst part of earthside leave was the silence. There was no radio that let John stay in instantaneous communication with his entire city. And there was no city in the back of his mind, humming, murmuring, letting him know she was alive, that she was glad he was there, that she needed him to nudge the engineers and scientists here and there. Colorado Springs was a bustling city, and Atlantis didn't have traffic and police sirens and barking dogs, but it was too damn quiet.  
  
John was halfway through his second bowl of chicken stew when he realized...he could hear the city. Or at least he could make out, just on the threshold of hearing, the murmur of a woman's voice. Singing. Talking. Just like the City.  
  
Cam, who has in the middle of telling him about Jackson's latest near-death experience - or was it seduction by an alien to priestess? For Jackson those were often the same thing - paused and looked at John expectantly. "Are you all right?"  
  
John tilted his head. "Do you hear that?"  
  
Cam immediately looked shifty. "Hear what?"  
  
How the hell had he survived SERE training? "That voice."  
  
"Oh. Um." Cam reached into his pocket, held up a shiny silver remote, pressed a button. Immediately the voice was louder.  
  
Mama Cass was singing about stars shining bright above. She segued into another woman reciting a poem.  
  
John stared at Cam. "Cameron? Something I should know?"  
  
"You said – in one of your emails. That you miss the city when you come home. That not hearing her makes you feel weird. So I – improvised." Cam ducked his head, chased a piece of chicken around the bottom of his bowl. Then he remembered the remote and turned the voice back down low again.  
  
John grinned. "I knew there was a reason you're the leader of SG-1. Your ability to improvise is unparalleled across at least two galaxies."  
  
"Carter and I are co-leaders. We have the same rank –"  
  
John reached across the table and hauled Cam in for a kiss. "Show me your improvisation some more." And he made a beeline for the bedroom.  
  
Cam followed.  
  
Hours later, sweaty and sated, John curled against Cam's side and listened to his heart beating, listened to a woman murmuring, and decided that yes, Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell and his amazing improvisation skills were the best part about on-world leave.


End file.
